Forbidden Desires: Conquering Kingdoms And Women In a Fantasy World!-Chapter 29: The Queen of Briaran [1]

The blond knight was still standing, but barely. He blinked several times in rapid succession, clearly trying to clear his vision and make sense of what had just happened to him. A thin trickle of blood ran down from where my boot had connected with his temple, stark red against his pale skin.

"Impossible...Sir Oliver..." One of the other knights whispered.

Oliver huh?

"What’s happening, Sir Oliver?" I called out with mockery. "Are you ready to give up already?"

Oliver’s head snapped up at my taunt, and I immediately realized I’d made a potentially fatal mistake. The look in his eyes had transformed completely—gone was the shocked confusion, replaced by something much darker and more dangerous. This wasn’t the gaze of a man who’d been caught off guard by a lucky shot.

He took a step forward, and his entire demeanor had changed. Where before his movements had been confident but predictable, now he moved with the fluid grace of someone who’d stopped holding back.

Holy shit.

My enhanced reflexes were the only thing that saved me. I threw myself to the side purely on instinct, feeling the displacement of air as his fist whistled past my ear with enough force to cave in a skull. The sound of his punch cutting through the air sent a shock wave echoing in my ears, and I knew with absolute certainty that if I’d taken that hit, I would have been eating dirt—assuming I was still conscious enough to eat anything at all.

Gasps rippled through the crowd of watching soldiers as they witnessed their captain’s true speed for the first time. Even they seemed surprised by the transformation in their leader.

Oliver appeared momentarily taken aback by my successful dodge, but he recovered with the fluid adaptability of a seasoned warrior. His hand shot out like a striking snake, fingers grasping for my shirt to hold me in place for a finishing blow. But I was already moving, dropping into a low crouch and sweeping my leg in a wide arc aimed at his ankles.

My leg connected with satisfying force, and I felt the impact travel up through my bones. Oliver’s leg trembled under the assault, his perfect balance wavering for just a moment. Unfortunately, despite the power behind my sweep, it wasn’t quite enough to bring him down. He managed to keep his footing, though I could see the effort it took.

Oliver glared down at me.

I quickly rolled away as his boot came down where my head had been a split second before, leaving a small crater in the packed earth. As I moved, I placed my palm flat against the ground and channeled my magic essence into the soil beneath Oliver’s feet.

The earth responded to my will, flowing like thick mud before hardening into stone around Oliver’s right foot. He had been moving toward me for another attack when suddenly he found himself rooted in place, his leg trapped up to the ankle in what had become solid rock.

"W—What?" He stuttered, staring down at his imprisoned foot in complete bewilderment.

I seized the moment of his surprise, launching myself forward with my fist drawn back like a loaded crossbow.

"Here we go, Oliver!" I called out with a savage smile, putting everything I had behind the punch.

But Oliver was a Royal Knight for a reason. Even caught off guard and partially immobilized, his reflexes were extraordinary. His palm shot up to intercept my strike, catching my fist in his much larger hand with a sound like thunder.

BA-DAM!

The impact sent shock waves up both our arms, and I saw Oliver’s eyes widen as he felt the full force behind my attack. This wasn’t the weak blow of a child—this was a strike that could have shattered stone, and he knew it.

His fingers immediately clamped down around my captured fist like a vice, and I felt the bones in my hand beginning to compress under the pressure. At the same time, he kicked his trapped foot free from the earthen prison, chunks of stone scattering in all directions as his raw strength overcame my magical binding.

Now I was in serious trouble. Oliver had me by the hand, and his grip was tightening with each passing second. I could feel my finger bones beginning to crack under the pressure, and my face contorted with pain despite my best efforts to remain stoic.

But I wasn’t finished yet.

In a move that would have been impossible without my enhanced flexibility and training, I launched myself upward and wrapped my legs around Oliver’s neck in a perfect triangle choke. My thighs locked around his throat while my ankle hooked behind my opposite knee, creating an unbreakable seal that immediately began cutting off his air supply.

"What?!" Oliver gasped, his voice already strained as the pressure around his windpipe increased.

He’d probably never encountered anything like this technique in his entire life. Why would he? This was a submission hold from Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, developed on a world that wouldn’t exist for centuries in this reality. To him, it must have seemed like some kind of impossible contortion.

Oliver’s grip on my fist tightened in response to the chokehold, and I felt the bones in my hand grinding against each other as he applied crushing pressure. My face twisted with agony, but I refused to cry out or loosen my hold around his neck.

"Y—You!" Oliver managed to choke out, his face already beginning to turn red from the lack of oxygen.

I couldn’t help but smirk at him despite the pain radiating from my captured hand. The look of frustration and grudging respect in his eyes was almost worth the agony.

That expression of defiance seemed to push him over the edge. I felt the air around us begin to crackle with energy as Oliver started channeling his own magical essence. The power radiating from him was overwhelming—like standing next to a bonfire compared to my own modest candle flame.

Oh shit.

I was screwed for real this time.

"Enough."

The single word cut through the tension building dangerously. The voice was calm, measured that made even the magical energy around Oliver falter and dissipate.

Both Oliver and I turned toward the source of the interruption, and I felt my jaw drop at what I saw.

A woman was stepping gracefully from the ornate carriage, and she was without question one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever laid eyes on. Long chestnut hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of silk, framing a face that could have been carved by angels. Her emerald green eyes held depths that seemed to contain entire worlds, and atop her head sat a crown that caught the afternoon sunlight and threw it back in brilliant flashes.

The Queen of Briaran herself? Here? In our tiny village?

For real?

I glanced at Oliver, who immediately released his crushing grip on my fist and stepped back. Without any other choice, I unlocked my legs from around his neck and dropped to the ground with a grunt as my back hit the packed earth.

Oliver rubbed his throat where my thighs had been constricting his airway, but his attention was entirely focused on the approaching royal figure. He immediately dropped to one knee and bowed his head deeply.

"Your Majesty," he said, his voice still slightly hoarse from the chokehold.

At his words, the reality of the situation finally hit Tom, who had been watching our entire fight with a mixture of fascination and terror. He quickly bowed as well, his weathered face pale with shock. Zoey, following his lead, dropped into what I assumed was supposed to be a curtsy, though her inexperience with royal protocol was obvious.

A sharp, throbbing pain shot through my broken fingers as I flexed them experimentally, the bones grinding together in a way that made my stomach lurch. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I forced myself to stand upright and managed to turn toward the Queen with what I hoped was some semblance of dignity intact.

The woman standing beside her—clad in polished steel armor fixed me with a withering stare from beneath her helmet. Even with her face partially obscured, there was a Cleary beauty to her features, though her expression was as cold as winter frost.

"On your knees," she said.

The Queen raised a delicate hand, her green eyes never leaving my face. "It’s fine, Olivia."

The knight—Olivia—reluctantly stepped back.

"What’s your name?" The Queen asked.

"Harold," I replied.

"Where did you learn to fight, Harold?" There was genuine curiosity in her tone now, as if my fighting style had intrigued her in some way I couldn’t fathom.

"Alone."

She continued to stare at me with those penetrating green eyes, as if trying to peer into my very soul. The silence stretched uncomfortably before she spoke again.

"You said you saved my daughter?" She asked then about her daughter.

"I did. She is safe and sound in our village," I replied. Around us, the other villagers had begun to gather at a respectful distance, their faces a mixture of awe and terror at being in the presence of royalty.

"I see." The Queen nodded slowly, her expression softening almost imperceptibly. "I will follow your lead then."

Behind her, the assembled knights shifted uneasily, clearly as surprised by their monarch’s decision as I was.

Well I wouldn’t refuse this.

"Uncle, you should go ahead and inform them," I said to Tom, who had been hovering nearby with an expression of barely concealed amazement. He nodded quickly, seeming grateful for the excuse to escape the tension, and hurried ahead toward the village center.

Zoey, however, remained close to my side, a bit nervous. I could feel her stealing glances at the royal procession, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her simple dress.

Unable to help myself, I found my gaze drifting back to the Queen. Her chestnut hair was artfully arranged with intricate golden ornaments that caught the light with every movement, and her emerald gown was clearly crafted from the finest silk, flowing around her like liquid starlight. Her figure was nothing short of breathtaking—the kind of ethereal beauty that would have put Earth’s top models to shame without even trying.

She was, without question, absolutely shot and gorgeous.

The thought that she appeared to be in her late twenties despite having a twelve-year-old daughter was just another reminder that I was no longer bound by the logic of my former world. In this realm of magic and wonder, apparently, the normal rules didn’t apply.

Not that it mattered. Even if she hadn’t been royalty—which she very much was—I was hardly in any condition to be entertaining romantic fantasies, at least for now.

"Don’t stare at the Queen so rudely," Olivia spoke up again noticing my lingering stare on the Queen.

I turned to look at her properly for the first time, and something about her bearing, the set of her shoulders, the way she held her head.... My eyes darted between her and Oliver, noting the similar bone structure, the matching shade of what I could see of their hair.

"Wait," I said, unable to contain my curiosity. "Are you siblings?"

The Queen chuckled lightly at my words.

It seemed my guess had hit the mark.

"You are quite bold for your age, Harold," she observed, though there was amusement rather than censure in her tone.

"If I wasn’t bold, I wouldn’t have saved Princess Judith," I replied without missing a beat.

"This brat..." Oliver muttered under his breath, though I caught the words clearly enough. It seemed my habit of steering every conversation back to my heroic deeds was beginning to wear on him.

But the Queen only seemed more amused by my audacity, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as we continued deeper into the village.

The effect of our procession on the villagers was immediate and dramatic. People emerged from their homes and workshops, their faces painted with expressions of wonder and disbelief.

"Is that really her? The Queen herself?"

"Look at those clothes... I’ve never seen silk like that..."

"Why is she here? What does it mean?"

"That’s young Harold leading them! Did you see him fight that knight?"

The crowd grew larger as we progressed, though they maintained a respectful distance—partly from reverence, partly from the intimidating presence of the royal guard. Children peeked out from behind their parents’ legs, their eyes wide with fascination.

As we approached the village center, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from ahead. I looked up to see a familiar figure running toward us, her small hands clutching the hem of her gown to keep from tripping. Princess Judith’s chestnut hair streamed behind her like a banner, and even from a distance, I could see the tears already forming in her eyes.

When she spotted the Queen, she froze mid-step as if turned to stone. Her green eyes widened impossibly.

"Mother... Mother!" The words tore from her throat in a sob of pure joy and relief.

She launched herself forward again, no longer caring about maintaining royal dignity, and threw herself into her mother’s waiting arms with such force that it staggered the Queen backward a step.

"Judith, are you okay?" The Queen’s composure finally cracked, revealing the worried mother beneath the regal facade. Her hands roamed over her daughter’s face and arms with desperate tenderness, checking for injuries, searching for any sign that her precious child had been harmed.

"I’m fine, Mother. I’m fine," Judith whispered through her tears, clinging to her mother as if she might disappear if she loosened her grip.

Despite her words, I noticed how carefully the Queen continued her examination, her relief evident when she found not a single mark or blemish on her daughter’s skin. Whatever else happened, I hadn’t lied. Princess Judith was indeed safe and sound.

As Judith pressed her tear-streaked face against her mother’s shoulder, her head turned slightly—just enough that her eyes, wide and still shimmering with emotion, locked with mine across the space between us. The moment our gazes met, a bright crimson flush spread rapidly across her cheeks. Her eyes widened, then dropped in embarrassment. She quickly took a step back from the Queen, her posture stiffening as she tried to reclaim some composure, some sense of dignity.

But that dignity had slipped through her fingers long ago—lost somewhere between the desperate flight from the bandits and the trembling embrace she’d just shared with her mother in front of everyone.

Trying to speak with a semblance of calm, Judith cleared her throat and said, "The village helped keep me safe, Mother. Just in case the bandits returned."

"I see. Is there anyone who can give me a clear account of what happened here?" The Queen asked.

Almost on cue, Aldan stepped forward from the small crowd gathering nearby. "Your Majesty," he said, bowing deeply, "I am Aldan, the one responsible for this village. Please, if you’ll come to my home, I will explain everything to the best of my knowledge."

The Queen gave a single nod of approval. "Very well. Olivia and Oliver will accompany me. The rest of you," she said, addressing the knights standing at attention behind her, "stay on watch."

The knights gave sharp nods in unison and dispersed without a word, taking positions around the village, their eyes scanning the woods and nearby homes with trained vigilance.

I had just begun to turn away, already reaching for Zoey’s hand with the intent of heading back to find Lisa and Riley, when the Queen’s voice rang out once more.

"Where are you going, boy?" She asked. "You claimed to have saved my daughter, did you not? Then I would hear that tale—from your own lips."

Her eyes were sharp and piercing.

I paused mid-step, then gave a slow nod. "Right..." I murmured.

Beside me, Zoey shifted uncomfortably. I could feel her concern radiating through her silence. Her eyes flicked from the Queen to me, then to my bruised and bloodied hands.

"Go back," I told her quietly, giving her a soft push on the shoulder. "Find Lisa and your brother. I’ll catch up."

She didn’t move right away. Her lower lip jutted out slightly, and I could tell she was about to protest. "Are you sure?"

"I’m fine," I laughed as I reached out to gently pat her hair, brushing a loose strand from her forehead.

It wasn’t that serious.

A faint blush bloomed across her cheeks before she gave a tiny nod. "Okay..."

She turned quickly, her boots kicking up dust as she spun and darted off across the open clearing.